


Galliard

by Eukaryote



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, band au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-28 19:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8460295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eukaryote/pseuds/Eukaryote
Summary: The band AU nobody asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which new friends are found and lots of dialogue occurs.

_I hate music_

_It's got too many notes_

_Are you listening?_

_The Replacements  - I hate music._

 

 

Like all good beginnings it started with something going wrong.

The Super High Intensity Team or S.H.I.T as they were more commonly known in the music scene, had just made their first big break. They had their first real gig at the biggest shit hole in Stillben known as the Jail Cell. It was in no part due to their new acquaintance one Scanlan Shorthalt, former glam rock front men turned middle aged alcoholic, who for some reason or another decided to throw all his weight behind a bunch of kids who if they sounded any rawer might as well of been mooing. Something about ‘moxy’ and certainly having nothing to do with his infatuation with their friend Pike who ran their rather sparse merchandise booth.  For whatever reason, he was able to pull what little strings he had left in the music world to get them one show on a shitty rain soaked Monday night at the Jail Cell.

It was something though. The Jail Cell might of been when the more seedier dives on God’s green earth. Built like a bomb shelter with unforgiving concrete floors and a stage that threatened to cave in at a moment’s notice. Yet the place had a history it, a built in reputation of taking in complete no-names and thrusting them into the wider world with just one good night. It was to be their first and probably only chance to get their name out there. Hopefully sell some CDs recorded in Scanlan’s garage, and get enough exposure to maybe book another gig in the next decade. A baptism by fire if you were so inclined. If only they could get to the church.

Soundchecks were interrupted by the telltale sound of an amplifier’s ear piercing screech followed by a distorted pop that silenced them all.

“Fuck!” Vex, S.H.I.T’s rhythm guitars and lead singer let out a curse looking down at her Red 1969 Gibson KG-2. Attempting a few cords no sound found its way to the amp.

“Where’d the sound go?” A large booming voice from behind her asked. She turned behind her looking at the giant shirtless man that dwarfed even the drum kit he sat at.

“Somewhere shitty by the sound of it Grog.” Piped in the tired voice of her twin brother Vax, the S.H.I.T’s lead guitarist and general perpetual angst machine.

“Yeah, you don’t say brother.” Quipped Vex as she unplugged the KG-2 flipped it over and shaking it about listing for the faint sound of loose wires jostling about. Of course she wasn’t that lucky. Cursing again she looked down at the guitar defeated. “Looks like I probably blew something.”

“So why don’t we unblow it?” Grog asked like it was the most obvious solution in the world.

“It ain’t that easy Grog.” Vax called over his shoulder as he walked to his sister to look at her instrument though she refused to let it be prayed away from her hands. He placed his hands on hers whispering into her ear with a smirk. “Come on stubby I might be able to fix it.

“On the contrary. Unblowing it might be just what we needed.” A voice called in response with quickly approaching footfalls. Mr. Shorthalt rushing in to do damage control undoubtedly. “Vax no offense my man, but we don’t have time for you to fuss about and make things worse. What we need to do is for you three to continuing tightening up your act.” The short man replied and in a surprising display of agility for a man of his stature vaulted atop of the stage as he drew in close to it. “We have only two short hours until you either make all of us a laughing stock or bathing in riches and lovely ladies. You need to get down the transition into the solo, Grog needs to work on clearer contact during the faster tempos, and Vex you can take this time to work on clearing up some of the vocals.”

“But my guitar!”  Vex protested breaking away from her brother’s grasp.

“No butts, no dicks, no breasts, no ifs. I can make some calls and get somebody in to fix it before the show starts.” Scanlan retorted and began getting them to go back to work.

The time flew by quick enough with all the practicing, but Vex couldn't help continuing looking up at the clock at the wall. The time slowly ticking down to showtime. At about an hour before they were scheduled to head onto the stage there was the telltale sound of a very loud motorcycle pulling up on the gravel that made up the parking lot outside. Everyone froze what they were doing as one of the side doors was flung open letting in the sound of heavy rainfall and a stiff breeze that took away any warmth from the room.

A woman walked in dressed in a bright green jacket and a knee-length beige dress. What most of been an accumulative mane of bright red hair pulled back into a tight long ponytail that fell at about the small of her back. Warm light brown eyes seemed to shine with a sort of radiance that could've only been matched by Pike as she walked into the room, seemingly chipper as can be despite the fact that she was apparently soaked to the bone. She did not deviate from her path walking straight up to the stage the sound of boots clicking against the concrete floors.

“Hello S.H.I.Ts!” The women announced as she draw in closer.

Vex turned towards her brother who was busy trying to get his jaw up and off of the floor and back at the strange woman cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Pretty.” Announced Grog from his position at his drum kit making the redhead blush. Granted even Vex could admit that she was pretty cute.

“You guys are the S.H.I.Ts right?” She inquired.

“Yeah. Are you.... Are you the repairman that Scanlan got?” Vax asked somehow managed to recover at least a sliver of his cool and collected composer. Then the girl laughed a warm unapologetic giggle that seemed to fill the room and he lost all of it again in an instant.

“Nope. I’m Keyleth” She replied flashing a smile. “I was just getting coffee with him. You are looking for that guy!” She explained as she turned around and pointed a finger towards the door where she entered where another figure stood seemingly trying to brush the rain droplets off of him.

At the sound of her voice, the man looked up seemingly noticed that he was being take about seemed to sigh and made his way over. A lit cigarette was caught in the left corner of his mouth. He was dressed in a dark blue overcoat that seemed to swallow him whole despite his own towering stature. A shock of white hair which cut through the darkness framing a sharply angular face accented by a pair of golden wireframe glasses that sat atop his face. He walked with the well off strut of somebody that either owned the place or at least thought he did. In one hand he clutched a black motorcycle helmet and in the other a large red tool box. 

“I’ve been informed somebody has a broken instrument. Is that correct” He asked as he approached standing by Keylth’s side and looking up at the group in front of him a slight frown upon his face.

“Are you the repairman?” Vax asked the slight hint of confusion upon his voice.

“That’s not an answer to my question.” The white haired man responded impatiently glancing away towards the clock on the wall.

Vax was about to respond with a rebuttal when Scanlan stepped forward.  A smile on his face. “Yes. Vex’s KG-2 has unfortunately ceased to sing. You must be Mr...”

“You can call me Percival” He replied as he leaped up onto the stage and walked straight towards Vex. He stood about a head or two taller than her leaning over her he stretched out his arms. “Where is it?”

“What?” Vex asked taking a single step backwards.

He sighed. “The guitar. The thing I came out in the rain to fix. Or do you expect me to do it from a distance with some sort of sorcery?”

“No need to be a jerk about it.” Vex snorted as she reached behind her to pick up the KG-2 which sat on its case. Placing the toolbox and the helmet to the ground, he took the guitar in his hands and started looking at it.

“Can he fix it?” Inquired Grog asking what the rest of the band was all thinking.

“Oh Percy can fix anything!” Keyleth responded confidently. “Isn’t that right Percy?”

“If it is what I think it is.” Percy responded sitting the guitar down upon the floor and kneeling in front of it. “Give me twenty minutes.”

The band watched incredulously as the man went about his task with an almost religious level of reverence. He slowly took off the black gloves that adorned his hands tucking them away into a jacket pocket. In the process he revealed heavy calloused hands scarred by from what looked to be acid burns akin to that of a veteran metal worker or another type. Flipping open the toolbox he spent the next twenty minutes to the dot rooting about within the Guitar moving about wires and adjusting parts muttering to himself throughout the whole process. Somehow without Vex noticing, Keyleth had appeared next to her watching her own curious face excitedly.

Putting the last screw into place he stood up gingerly picking up the Gibson and handing it over to Vex. “You blew the volume pot and for what it’s worth the inside was about to fall apart anyway. Everything should be in working now though.”

Vex took the guitar inquisitively as she felt the eyes of everyone in the room look at her as she experimentally plug it into the air. One flip of a switch later and the room came alive with the buzz of a guitar which had life freshly breathed back into it. Experimentally she began to play a few chords and she tried and failed at hiding the excitement on her face. It wasn’t just alive it sounded better than it had ever sounded before. The sound crisper and clearer than it had even been.

“Told you he could fix anything.” Keyleth stated matter-of-factly with a smile on her face.

“Satisfied?” Percival asked her with the smallest of grins peaking across his face. Vex looked at him and instantly decided that he looked much better when he was happy. Even if she had to fight every urge to punch the smug look right off of his face.

“Very!” She declared trying to keep the stupid grin off of her face as she played another riff, the sound roaring out from the amplifier.

“Great. Now only if we could find a new bass player.” Vax muttered more to himself than anything else.

“Percy plays the bass.” Keyleth responded almost without thinking barely even noticing as Percy froze up on the ground in the middle of picking his tools back up.

“Really now.” Scanlan spoke rising an eyebrow cogs turning in his head already.

The man in question vanished cleaning up his tools and stood up. “As a matter of fact I do. But we’re busy Keyleth.” Percy insisted making a move towards the exit.

Keyleth grabbed at his arm. “Oh come on Percy. You and I both know that you don’t want to drive back in the rain. And besides Viktor already give you the rest of the day off from the shop, so where else do you have to go.”

If glares could kill Keyleth would of fallen dead on the spot right there. “I’m busy.”

“Maybe he’s scared.” Grog announced out loud to the quiet chuckles of Vex and Vax.

Percy froze in his tracks and turned. “Scared  hardly. And even if I did want to play you, I didn’t bring a bass with me.”

“That can be resolved.” Scanlan announced trying to hide the scheming grin off of his face. “I happen to have a bass in my car currently.”

“So what do you say? Wanna prove you're all just not talk.” Vax asked teasingly.

“Deal.”

Scanlan and Grog left the building together almost immediately coming back soon with a hardcase which they plopped down in front of Percy’s feet. Kneeling he flipped the latches open and produced an unassuming Washburn T12B. Adjusting the strap once he placed it over his neck so that it comfortably rested upon his shoulder he began tuning it in absolute silence. Never looking up at all the eyes now focused intently at him. Seemingly content he plugged the Washburn into an amp and began to play.

Vex recognized the bassline almost immediately Oleo by Cactus. He played it with a face of total concentration but the rhythm and groove was all there. There was this guitar maintenance wizard playing one of the greatest basslines ever played by Tim Boggart with all its funk and flow and never seeming to break a sweat in the process. By the time he was finished there was a stunned silence which followed, the only sound being Percy turning the amp off and placing the Washburn back into its case.

“And now we have to go.” He explained prodding at Keyleth’s shoulder.

“But... but that was amazing!” Vax blurted out looking at him with a surprising spark of earnestly flashing across his eyes. “You have to play with us!”

“It gave me the goosebumps!” Declared Grog.

“Yeah come on Percy it will be fun!” Pleaded Keyleth digging her feet into the ground.

His eyes scanned the room eventually falling upon Vex who raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“You're the only one who hasn’t voiced an opinion on all of this.” He explained flatly.

“I mean we don’t need you.” Vex said her face as blank as his.“But if you want to play with us, just this once. It could be fun.” She added flashing a trademark grin and wink at him.

He froze on the spot seemingly caught off guard. “Just. This. Once.” He asked in confirmation.

“Just this once.” She explained “Scout’s honor.”

He looked from her to the ground to the others all looking at him expectantly. “Fine.”

Everyone let out a small cheer as Keyleth danced a little jig of joy. “If I’m doing those though I need to get changed.” He explained.

Vax stepped forward taking charge. “Of course. It’s almost a half hour till showtime anyway, we should start moving our stuff backstage.”

Just as Grog had finished bringing the last of the gear back with them Percy reappeared. Vex didn’t turn around until she heard her brother let out a low whistle and a curse. Turning her head she saw as Percival approaching them heavy blue jacket and plain white tshirt folded neatly in a pile in his hands. He was dressed in only the pair of black jeans that he was wearing earlier and boots. Pale upper torso bare for the world to behold.

While he certainly didn’t have the musculature of say Grog, he still possessed a certain je ne sais quoi which Vex didn’t mind at all. Yet even so she noticed much like his hands much of the rest of his upper body was a patchwork of various scars all in various states of healing. Some so faded that you had to squint to really see them and others dark and angry blaring through the skin. He didn’t even seem to notice the eyes upon him as he walked over and dropped the small pile of clothes upon a chair.

Scanlan was the first to find his composure. “You don’t know any of S.H.I.T’s songs do you?”

“None at all.” Percival stated but smirked adding. “I’m a good improvisor though.” 

 _Yeah a good couple of things_. Vex thought to herself trying her best not to stare. It wasn’t her fault that she found the human body amazing and beautiful.

A head poked through the curtains blonde hair pulled back into a bun, smiling face, sweat at the brow. Pike no doubt having to have to fight her way from the merch table. “Hope you guys are ready. Cause they say you're going on now!”

 

The show itself went more amazing than anyone of them could've ever imagined. Percival much to his credit was a very good improviser and when push came to shove he easily enough fell into the rhythm and started laying down a solid thundering bassline. Each note sounding less like it was coming from Scanlan’s Washburn and more like a thundering cannon sounding off for battle. Despite the rain, the crowd at the Jail Cell was as big as was to be expected. Meaning it was picked to the wall with people all ready to have a good time as long as the beer flowed and the music was good. It took about halfway through the second song but soon the crowd fell into S.H.I.T’s grasp and they were cheering and rocking along with the best of them.

When it was all said and done the party atmosphere reminded even as Monday night slowly began to stretch into Tuesday morning. Scanlan was off talking to the manger about receiving the band’s pay no doubt very happy with tonight's performance and the others were about. Grog was at the bar entertaining the crowd with an impressive display of alcohol tolerance as he took down whoever came at him in a drinking contest, Pike was swarmed at the Merch table with almost all of the merch that they had brought beings sold out.  Vex and Vax were talking to Keyleth and Percy in booth whose old leather seats stuck to their bodies just as Percy excused himself and made his way to the door.

“Tonight felt really good.” Vax announced as he downed more of his beer.

“No shit brother. It was probably the best we ever played.” Vex retorted driving an elbow into his side.

“Yeah y'all sounded amazing! And even Percy looked like he was having fun!” Keyleth exclaimed and by the tone of her voice it seemed that Percy having a good time was rare thing indeed.

“Speaking of Percy.” Vax started. “You think we should ask if he wants to keep playing with us?” Vax explained speech slightly slurred. Well he was good and they did all seem to gel pretty well together and ever since Tiberius left to deal with things back home, they never could find a good enough bass player.

“I mean he’s great and all... but does he even want to keep on playing with us?” Vex questioned.

“You should ask him.” Vax gesticulated slurring the words out and Keyleth added in her own vigorous nodding to get the point across.  
“Why me?”

“Cause I’m drunk.”

Slapping her brother across the back of the head with a sigh, she rose to her feet and made her way through the crush of the crowd towards the exit the Percy had vanished out of moments earlier. As she exited the threshold of the Jail Cell cool early morning air hit her sweat drenched skin sending a shiver down her spine. On the horizon she could see the faint glow of a sun. Percy was pressed against a nearby wall cigarette in mouth looking up at the stars fading away into the twilight. His long blue coat wrapped about him he seemed lost in thought.

“L'Heure Bleue” Percy spoke aloud looking up at the sky not acknowledging Vex’s presence but not speaking up against it either.

“Excuse me?” Vex asked as she took up a spot next to him leaning against the wall.

“The blue hour.” Percy replied gesturing upwards. “Françoise Hardy wrote a song about it once.”

“It is very blue.” Vex agreed bluntly looking up at the sky. Percy removed the cigarette from his mouth and without much thought he offered it to her. Vex froze for a moment but then took the cigarette from his hands and took a drag.

“Let me guess. You want me to continue playing with the band?” Percy asked as she handed the cigarette back fingers briefly skimming over one another.

“How’d you know?” Vex asked as she folded her hands behind her back.

“Everybody wants something. Such is the nature of the world” Percy pointed out.

“True. But you can’t deny that what happened tonight was special.”

“It felt surprisingly good. Yes” Percy agreed.

“Than why don’t you play with us?”

“I don’t feel like disappointing more people.” Percy stated and at this Vex turned her attention away from the sky and turned to look at the man next to her. He still looked upward face still statuesque yet for a moment she could see a twitch of something break across the facade.

“You are only disappointing people if you don’t show up.”

“Maybe.” He let out a small ring of smoke

Vex let out a slow exhale of breath. She took out a pen and grabbed the cigarette carton that was sticking out of his jacket pocket. She scribbled upon it with ease before placing it back into the pocket explaining as she did. “We practice on Thursday’s in Scanlan’s garage. If you have any more questions my cell phone number is on there as well.”

“I haven’t said yes, yet.” Percy stated as he finally tore his eyes away from the sky to look her in the eyes.

“You haven’t said no yet.” She explained trying to ignore the shaking in her left hand as it pressed against her leg.

“Nope.”

Part of her wished that they could stay like that forever but eventually all good things came to an end. Percy had to drive Keyleth home and Vex had to make sure her brother got home alive.

And if when Vex finally went to sleep that night, she dreamed of a white haired man and his talented hands. Well who was to blame her?

What did that guy say once? Oh yeah.

  
It was an interesting start alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which routines are examined and then broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People apparently like this. I'm just as shocked as you all are. So I guess this is becoming a thing now.

The sound of the early morning rush awoke Percival from his slumber. A familiar white ceiling stained with sporadic splotches of paint greeting eyes still heavy with sleep. Hand slapped against the nightstand to the right of him sending papers and other knickknacks to the floor, finally his hand found the rectangular shape of a phone. Calloused fingers brushed across the slightly raised power button on the side and pressed in. Eyes reflexively squinted at the bright light that was cast into him. He sighed. If there was one thing he hated more than mornings it was Thursdays.

Placing the phone back upon the table his hands found purchase on silk sheets and with considerable effort he pushed himself upward swinging his legs over the side of the bed in one smooth motion. He waited for the world to stop spinning exhaling as he counted to five before he arose from his bed. Feet slapped against cold hardwood floors echoing into the silence as he made his way to the adjoining bathroom. Lights automatically stuttering to life as they detected movement.

The bathroom was a simple modernist affair. A toilet opposite the door, bathroom vanity to the left, and in the far corner jutting up from the floor a cube of glass that was the shower. Clothes were removed with little ceremony tossed in the corner in a small pile that had been growing for the past week. He stepped into the shower and turned a dial and cold water rushed outwards splashing against his body. Hand pressed against the glass he closed his eyes fighting the reflexive shiver that fought its way up his spine. He reached  for the bottle of dollar brand shampoo that rested on the shelf and poured some into his hand. As he finished washing the suds from his hair, he reached for the disintegrating bar of soap running it along his scarred frame. He knew where most of those scars came from, simple accidents and the like. Yet his hand froze at certain places memories threatening to force their way through harden mental barricades. He breathed outward counting down from ten in his head and for the time being he manages to contain himself.

Five minutes later he exits the shower not even grabbing a towel as the water drips off of him. He makes his way back into the bedroom and gathers his clothes. Black tshirt and a pair of jeans seemingly seventy percent of his wardrobe at most points in time. Thinking about what clothes to wear was a formality for those that enjoyed wasting time. As he slipped a pair of plain cotton socks upon his feet he grabbed for the pair of spectacles on the nightstand. Finding out soon enough that in his scramble for his phone that he knocked them upon the ground, he grumbled and leaned down snatching them up. Rubbing away the smudges with his shirt he placed them back upon his face and exited the bedroom.

He came out in a familiar hallway with two more doors dust gathering on their handles. Paying them no heed he turned away and exited the hallway where it opened into a much bigger space. Illuminated by the light shining in through large panes of glass that stretched from floor to ceiling giving an uninterrupted view of the city skyline ahead of him. He stood watching the way that the rising sun played off the various skyscrapers like an intricate dance. Hands clasped behind his back. Seemingly content he made his way over to kitchen area. Hand grasped at wooden cabinets above opening and reaching within. He produced a half-emptied box of cornflakes from one cabinet and from the other a simple white bowl. He placed them both upon the bar countertop combination before he moved towards the fridge.

Opening it he found it completely empty except for a single bottle of ketchup. Sighing he closed the door and walked away not even noticing the note that he taped to the door maybe a month age stating simply.

**Empty.**

He pulled up a stool and sat at the countertop emptying cornflakes into a bowl. Not bothering to grab a spoon he began to pick at the flakes with his hands popping them into his mouth. The crunching noise echoing painfully outward into the silence around him. A few feet away from him still in the position where he left it was the crumpled cigarette carton from Monday night. Idly he reached for it and peered it over. He examined the added writing etched onto the carton in faded blue pen. A half-mixture between cursive and print that flowed between the two with no seeming pattern or reason.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tossing the carton to the side he pulled the phone from his pocket and looked down.

_Cass._

Something between a snort and a sigh escaped from his mouth as he answered the phone bringing it up to his ear.

“What do you want?” He asked with such a tone of indignation that you could practically hear the roll of his eyes.

“You’re an ass you know that?” A voice challenged him from the other side. A picture automatically forming in his head. A young woman that looked like the ‘spitting image of your mother in her youth’ sitting in a college dorm room with half a grin upon her face.

“I try my best.” Percival countered. “Now what is it?”

“Keyleth texted me.” She answered in a sing-song voice chuckling at the sigh that was produced on the other side,

“And what did she tell you?” Percival asked though his eyes had already fallen upon the discarded cigarette carton.

“That you made some friends on Monday night.” She sounded almost shocked.

“Friends is a very strong word Cass.” Percival corrected her. “You know how Keyleth always has a habit of exaggerating things.”

“You should go today.” Cass protested.

“I’m busy.”

“You’re busy?” He could almost hear the laughter in her voice. “Busy doing what brother? Mopping about the apartment? Byron called, he wants his tragic hero back.”

“I have work you know.” He countered even though they both saw the eventual ending of this conversation.

“Oh yeah you have ‘work’. In a music shop that barely gets any business fixing instruments for a senile old man with a significant lack of fingers”  She stated.

“At least I’m doing something.” Percival replied now pacing about the apartment. His voice sounding harsher than he intended.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Cass responded like the crack of a whip. “You think I’m spending my time partying? No I’m here because I need to somehow learn to run a multi-million dollar corporation because my asshole older brother like usual refuses to get the fuck over himself and accept some responsibility for once.”

The silence hung in the air after that.

“Yeah.” Percival responded tone flat as he hung up the phone even as he heard Cass try and say something. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he walked backed over to the countertop and calmly picked up the bowl of cereal and without breaking stride threw it as hard as he could against the far wall. White pieces scattering in all directions. His phone vibrated. Cass was trying to call him again. He let it keep on ringing until it stopped.

He didn’t have time to deal with this. He was going to be late if he didn’t start moving. Moving towards the front door he picked up his blue jacket off of the coatrack and slung it on feeling the warm familiarity surround him as he left. He took the stairwell down not feeling like sitting in an elevator with his thoughts and started to make his way down innumerable flights of stairs. Two at a time.

By the time he reached the garage level a thin veneer of sweat had formed upon his brow. A sea of cars surrounded him. Most costing upon the levels of a year’s salary for most people. His father’s old collection one of the man’s only signs of real emotional attachment besides his family. Walking past the cars he found his bike where he left it the night before, popping the seat upon he retrieved his helmet and seated himself up on top. Revving the engine he blasted out of the building and into the morning chill.

He sneaked in and out of traffic at high speeds. The bike was one of his only true releases. A form of pure escapism that allowed him to believe if only for a little bit that if he kept on driving that he could escape it all. He made his way down familiar streets as the towering skyscrapers of the city center faded from view and banks and law firms were replaced with rundown bodegas and graffiti ridden buildings. He found his way to small music shop sandwiched between a long abandoned travel agency and a pizza place that was almost fairly certain a cover for a drug den.

Leaving the bike out front he entered the shop. Victor was already there and probably had been for the last few hours. Percival honestly wasn’t convinced that the man actually went home after closing. Taking apart what seemed to be what was once a violin of some sort he only muttered something of an acknowledgement in Percival’s direction as the young man moved past him heading for the workshop out in the back.

It seemed like just yesterday that he first found the place. It was a few months after the incident and he was ditching talking to his therapist when Cass and the doctors were still half-heartedly forcing him to go to one. Victor didn’t really need the help, it wasn’t like anybody actually came into the shop all that often anymore but maybe in someway he wanted the company.

A smirk forming on his face as he remembered the first time he had seen the old men he opened the workshop door hinges screaming outward in protest. They called it the workshop though it was really nothing more than a cramped room of towering shelves filled with miscellaneous junk and a workbench that stood precariously on the verge of collapse. The smell of dust and oil filled the air and stuck to clothing like tar refusing to come out no matter how many times you washed them. With the boiler grumbling angrily in the corner it felt like a furnace during the winter time and during the summer it got colder than a meat freezer.

Taking his jacket off he tossed it among the piles of odds and ends. A small box stood on the workbench and he opened it up spreading the contents across the table. The guts and pieces of a small clock that Percival had found discarded on the side of the road. Most were rusted and worn beyond repair but Percival was never one to turn down a challenge. Picking up a small screwdriver he went to work.

As he finished screwing in one of the last screws into position his phone rang. His hand jerked at the sound and the clock was pushed off of the desk and onto the floor where all the pieces scattered. Letting out a long string of curses he reached for his phone.

_Keyleth._

“Keyleth how many times do I have to tell you. Don’t call me when I’m at work.” Percival stated as he answered the phone.

“Ooooh somebody sounds mad.” A playful voice answered on the other side. Percy froze, it wasn’t Keyleth’s voice. It hit him seconds later: ink black hair, smiling eyes, hand writing upon a cigarette carton. The girl from Monday night. He didn’t have time for this.

“What do you want?”

“Just checking in.” She explained feigning innocence.

“Why do you have her phone?” Percy questioned though he already knew the answer. Ever since their first meeting, Keyleth had been hanging out with the S.H.I.Ts whenever she could.

“Kiki let me borrow it.” Percy almost reflexively vomited when her heard the nickname. It seemed they had already managed to sink their teeth into her.

“Why are you calling me?” Percy restated more firmly this time.

“We have practice today.” She replied simply.

“ **We** have nothing today. You have practice today.” Percy corrected her.

She laughed the sound ticking Percy’s ears even as it came from the phone. He could see her smiling face in front of him. “Well this might sound odd. But I have a feeling that you are going to show up.”

“That still doesn’t mean I’m going to your band practice.”

“Oh I think it does.” She challenge. Percy crossed one leg over the other and pushed leaned backwards into the chair smirking.

“Really? Care to illuminate?”

“With pleasure.” The voice on the other line explained. “Well from what I can gather you are a strange, sad, lonely man.”

“Correct on all accounts.” Percival admitted. “Though I prefer damaged, jaded and worn.”

“Fair enough.” She replied. “You said it yourself that Monday night felt surprisingly good.”

“An anomaly they happen all the time.” Percy pointed out.

“I think this was different.” The girl pressed her point. “I think you felt something that your little stone heart hadn’t felt in a long while.”

“Oh and what’s that?”

“Excitement. Happiness?”

“Blasphemy!” Percival mocked exasperation. “I thought you said it yourself. I’m a sad, strange, lonely man. I have no such feelings.”

“Even so. I’m pretty sure you're going to show up.”

“..I’ll think about it.”

“Oh I’m sure you will.” The girl stated and there was a click as the line was disconnected.

An hour later he left the shop leaving a half-reassembled clock on the desk. As he pulled away from the curb he did not head back towards but turned heading out of the city and towards the suburbs. He didn’t take the cigarette carton with him but he didn’t need to. The handwriting was already etched into his brain.


End file.
